


Perchance to Dream

by Justaway_Ninja



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28292625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justaway_Ninja/pseuds/Justaway_Ninja
Summary: G1/IDW-esque AU.Skyfire and Starscream have a difficult time recharging.
Relationships: Jetfire | Skyfire/Starscream (Transformers)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32
Collections: Skystar Secret Santa 2020





	Perchance to Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift for silverbolt-roleplays-for-real on Tumblr, as part of the 2020 Skystar Secret Santa Exchange! The prompt was: 
> 
> _'Any version but especially G1 them two cuddling together under warm blankets and talking because they can’t sleep.'_
> 
> I tried to make it as wholesome as I could but my penchant for angst did sabotage me _a lot_ a lot, so I'm sorry, but I hope you can still enjoy the story somehow! 
> 
> And huge, huge thank yous to my good friends [OverlordRaax](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverlordRaax/pseuds/OverlordRaax), [Tackytacs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tackytacs/pseuds/tackytacs), and [Grayseeker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayseeker/pseuds/grayseeker) for their awesome, super last-minute betaing which totally saved my life! Everything you like in this fic will probably have come from one of them.

Night was all encompassing on the newly chartered planet of Volus – an impenetrable gloom that moved with a tedious slowness across the planet’s dusty barren landscape. It crawled along the rocks, seeping through the rivers, and then – finally, it reached the corners of a structure that jutted jarringly against the rest of the planet’s primordial surface. Heavily technical, fortified against all weathers, and arranged in the large, propaganda-form of a great, crimson face, the laboratory for ‘Autobot Research in Scientific Exploration’ had already dimmed its lights to mirror the planet’s daily schedule.

“Project X89-Z will commence at the earliest possible cycle tomorrow,” a helpful public notification had informed its residents within the centre. “All scientists and exploration teams must recharge now in order to prepare for fieldwork analysis tomorrow. All lights and mainframe-supported entertainment systems will now be temporarily deactivated to support your new recharge schedules.”

Starscream had not taken to the orders well.

“This is _draconian_ ,” he had protested as their computer screens automatically began to darken and the lights of their chambers dimmed without their command. “This is _torture_. Adapting to galactic lag is already bad enough without this barbaric recharge schedule forcibly _imposed_ upon you.”

“Well, unfortunately, the research suggests it _is_ the most effective method for dealing with lag,” Skyfire had shrugged, unhappy, but not enough to make a fuss about the matter. “Look on the bright side though. You’ve finally made it out of that rehabilitation centre, and we’re finally on a new expedition _together_. If we recharge now, we’ll have the whole of Volus to explore nice and early tomorrow.” It still didn’t quite sound real, but it was their new, shared reality, and they’d earned it. “Isn’t that exciting? Isn’t that what we’ve been looking forward to this whole time?”

“Tch,” was all Starscream had mumbled, rubbing absent-mindedly on the location tracker welded into his wrist. Still, his wings perked at the reminder, and for a time, it seemed to work.

For a time.

And then it started again.

“I can’t recharge.”

 _Two cycles_ , thought Skyfire grimly as he consulted his internal chronometer. Two cycles spent lying on their shared berth, shifting awkwardly from holding hands, to touching wings, to Starscream occasionally sliding over and nestling his helm against Skyfire’s chest, groaning with frustrated, fully awake, boredom. Three other times he had placated his increasingly impatient partner with a few words, but now, with the chronometer ticking, Starscream’s words rang out with an inevitable truth. Even Skyfire didn’t feel any more tired than he had when he’d first clambered on to the berth, and if even _he_ was getting tired, then Starscream…

He tried to remind himself, once again, of how hard they had worked to earn the Autobots’ trust. Of open skies and alien terrains, of days and nights to come with Starscream in the lab – testing, learning, debating, and exploring. Everything would be like it was before.

If only they were a little more patient.

“Just give it a few more klicks,” he tried. “If you try to lie _still_ , it –”

“Oh, this is futile!” groaned Starscream, evidently at his limit, and Skyfire grudgingly opened his optics to find the Seeker’s shadowy form clambering towards the night light, his path lit by piercing blue optics which were far too brightly illuminated. “Volarian space-time is at least five cycles ahead of Cybertron, meaning we still have three cycles to kill at _least_. Not to mention that there’s simply no way we can adapt on the first orn. We might as well do something useful with our time.”

“Nothing that won’t be done tomorrow,” replied Skyfire firmly. “That’s the point of recharging now.”

The startlingly blue optics turned now to glare at him, still totally unconvinced, and the shuttle had to cringe as the night light was dialled to maximum. Although the illumination was still dimmed by the command from the mainframe, it was bright enough to chase away any last hint of recharge that might have resided in Skyfire’s processor.

The shuttle groaned. “Come on, Starscream, please. Turn that light off, and then maybe you can…” He thought for a moment. “Count something?”

“Count something?” Starscream stared.

“It’s a trick for recharge,” mumbled Skyfire, rubbing his optics and blinking them open again blearily. The light was still on and Starscream was watching him, helm tilted. “You don’t know? Someone told me when I was younger. Apparently it really helps.”

“Counting?” repeated Starscream, still sounding incredulous. “That sounds even more dull than attempting to recharge during galactic lag.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” said Skyfire tiredly, lowering his helm back onto his pillow. “Come on, lights off.”

There was a pause. Starscream still looked sceptical, but Skyfire hastily attempted to end the conversation by throwing his blankets over the other’s helm, successfully procuring an indignant squawk. The Seeker collapsed in a writhing, tangled heap against the berth, cursing and struggling, but when he freed himself he did reluctantly flick the lights off once more.

“I’ll punch you if you do that again,” he threatened.

“Maybe that will help _me_ recharge,” snorted Skyfire, amused, and earned himself a slap on the arm for his troubles.

Still, Starscream was back in the berth now, slowly wrapping an arm around Skyfire’s and entwining their fingers together.

Skyfire heaved a content sigh.

The serenity didn’t last.

“… It’s not working.”

“Starscream, it’s been, what, three astroseconds?”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to be counting.”

“Anything,” shrugged Skyfire, keeping his optics firmly shuttered. “Energon cubes, stars, planets… Actually, stars get a little repetitive, but planets seem to work well for me. I imagine myself travelling at light speed across the star systems, seeing the universe go by and all the different life forms on the planets I’m passing…”

“You?” Starscream smirked, teasing. “At light speed?”

Now it was Skyfire’s turn to smack him. “Oh, shut up. It’s just meant to be something relaxing.”

The Seeker snorted. “Flying over stars is _relaxing_? I can’t think of anything more _exciting._ ”

And then he stilled.

Simultaneously, Skyfire lifted his helm, optics flashing open. “Oh no,” he said, urgently. “We’re not.”

“It’s an effective way of expending energy,” said Starscream, unfazed, and to the shuttle’s alarm began to procure an information cable from his arm. “I can tweak the main frame to give us access. Just a few klicks will do, stretch our wings. I can switch everything back when we’re done, and no one would even –”

“No, don’t –” cried Skyfire, and instinctively lurched toward to pull back on the other’s arm, intent on preventing the nimbler Seeker from clambering over his frame and off the berth. His hand closed, harsher than he expected, around the Seeker’s wrist.

And Starscream snapped, ripping his arm away from the shuttle’s touch, his wings flaring high and agitated.

“The slag are you doing?!” He snarled, his optics sharp and filled with angry warning. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“No, I –” Guiltily, Skyfire pulled back as though scorched, his faceplates warm with shame. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just… They’re still tracking you, you know, and if you start messing with their equipment, then they might…”

“Might what?” Starscream scoffed, his tone still harsh. “Lock a Seeker up for _flying_?”

“Starscream, I’m serious.”

“And so am I,” retorted the Seeker immediately, his crystal blue gaze cutting and insincere. “Why, what do _you_ think I’ll be doing, for slag’s sake? Reaching out to my old pal _Megatron_?” 

“You know it’s not me you have to worry about.”

“Isn’t it?” spat Starscream, an indescribable fury flaring across his faceplates – emotions that did not seem properly expressed by the all too calm blue of his optic. “What happened to you, Skyfire? You never used to be so pathetic.” 

It was a low blow, but still the accusation was heavy and it cut the shuttle in a way he did not expect. Skyfire clenched his fists and dipped his helm so that his partner would not see the pain writ large across his faceplates.

What had happened to Skyfire was nothing. Nothing except a perfect, icy encasement that had preserved him for thousands of vorns. And though his frame ached with an age he had not experienced, he was still the same young graduate from Iacon’s Science Academy.

The one who had changed was Starscream.

It had been vorns since his reawakening on Earth, when Starscream and the Autobots had broken him out of his icy tomb. Vorns since his gradual reintroduction to the Seeker who he had only just begun to call his lover, just before his crash. But though he shared their blue optics and the red-faced insignia on his wings, his partner had always been treated differently by the Autobots. In their minds, they saw a different Starscream, who still lurked, hungry and dangerous, within.

And it was only during outbursts like these, under the cold glint of Starscream’s new azure optics, that Skyfire would suddenly remember that other Starscream, who had grown from the millennia of distance between them. Tales of a Seeker commander with bloody optics, whose brutality struck fear into his enemies’ sparks and whose loyalty to the Decepticon cause had once been unwavering.

Yet ultimately, he had given all of this up.

For Skyfire.

Carefully, the shuttle exhaled, feeling the rush of the air disturb the currents against his faceplates and wings. Starscream had turned his helm away now, arms folded tightly across his chest as though in tight embrace, the light of his optics still smouldering. 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

Starscream stirred, his wings flicking in surprise. Gently, Skyfire leaned forward, reaching out again into the darkness, into the cold blue light of the Seeker’s distant gaze.

“I know you’re far more experienced in the air than I ever will be, and I know that _you_ know what you’re doing. But it’s still a new planet, it’s dark outside, and if things suddenly change… I don’t want what happened to us to happen again. No,” he realised, with a churn in his Spark. “I don’t want what happened to you to happen to _me_. I’m scared of… of losing you, and this – this life we’ve always wanted. Especially when we’ve come so close.” His hands clenched. “Especially when we’re finally…”

_Here._

There was a long silence. Starscream stared at Skyfire’s outstretched hand, seemingly at a loss for words. His expression was complicated, but there was no longer any anger, not towards Skyfire, at any rate.

Still, he ignored the gentle invitation, and turned away, his wings dropping. 

“It wasn’t my fault you crashed,” he muttered, disjointed, his words distorted and low. “It wasn’t –”

“It was no one’s fault,” answered Skyfire immediately. With greater assertion he shifted closer to the Seeker’s still form, currently leaning against the wall-side of their berth. “But you were the one who saved me. You risked approaching your enemies to help me. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be here at all.”

Starscream was silent. But this time, when Skyfire reached for his hand again, he let him hold it, and again he did not protest when the shuttle gently draped their blanket around both their shoulders, their wings bumping gently into each other’s – Starscream’s wings broad and angled, while Skyfire’s were slim and sharp. They sat there for a moment in reflective silence, content for a moment, when finally, the Seeker spoke again.

“It used to work for Skywarp,” was all he said at first, his voice a little distant, out of context and avoidant.

Still, Skyfire recognised this for the peace offering that it was, and no t without relief, he took it. “What did?”

“Sending him outside,” murmured Starscream. There was a grudging shift in his body language, tension seeping reluctantly out of his wings and expression. “He was always an energetic little slagger, so Thundercracker and I would have to wear him down sometimes for recharge.” He made a soft noise of amusement. “We had him teleport around for ridiculous errands, or we would have him fly loops around the globe.”

Skywarp. Thundercracker. Starscream’s Decepticon trinemates. Optics brightening a little in surprise – Starscream rarely talked about his past life so willingly – the shuttle shifted on to his side, unable to resist his curiosity. “Is Skywarp the one who… who said he threw a glitter bomb over Sentinel Prime?” He asked, cautiously, quietly, his voice lowered as though coaxing a wild animal.

Surprisingly, the words brought out a small, but sincere, laugh. “Yeah,” said Starscream, his voice tinged with an odd fondness. “Utter scrap, if you ask me, although I’m absolutely sure he is the type of mech to pull off something like that.” He paused, considering. “Not sure he has the intellect to build a glitter bomb though.”

“That part sounds more like something Wheeljack would do,” chuckled Skyfire.

Starscream’s optics twinkled. “Heh. I suppose. Although Wheeljack would have blown it up on himself first. Apparently this happened before the war though, so maybe the two were in cahoots. Who knows?”

“Mmh,” Skyfire tilted his helm, wondering quietly about a world where Autobots and Decepticons could co-exist more peacefully. “Skywarp… can teleport, can’t he?”

“Clue’s in the designation, genius,” Starscream scoffed, but there was no real bite in his tone. “Got him into trouble a lot though, that ability. He once teleported Rumble into a wall. Soundwave was livid.” Unbidden, a smirk began to grow on his faceplates. “If I had ever had a close call with death, I think it would be that time I was trying to stop myself from laughing at the utter chaos that followed.”

Rumble. Soundwave. Again, they were designations Skyfire recognised without clear images of their faces, references he had picked up from what scarce documentation were available. Sources about the war tended to be patchy, partly because mechs were too busy fighting, partly because the war itself had destroyed many of them, and mostly because it was so often presumed that everyone already _knew_.

But Skyfire didn’t. And it was only in Starscream’s words that he would sometimes catch glimpses of their faces. Cybertronians just like any other, he thought.

“Tell me more about Rumble and the wall.”

“Hmph. You certainly changed your tune,” huffed the Seeker, arching an optic ridge. “ _Now_ you’re a Decepticon sympathiser? Not sure Prowl would be happy about that.”

“It’s not sympathy if it’s about a Decepticon stuck in a wall now, is it?” Skyfire smiled. “You can’t just leave me hanging when the premise is so intriguing.”

That, at least, prompted Starscream with a smile of his own, and it was suddenly as though he had released the cap of a pressurised canister – there was an almost audible relief in Starscream’s voice as he retold his tales. Not only did he run through the backstory of the Lagothrix Major prank wars, which had previously seen Rumble trick Skywarp into a blind date with Motormaster, it also became important to detail the antics of the squadron stationed on Doria 4Y9 the previous vorn, and the complicated relationship between the Stunticons and Elite Seekers that made the whole situation even more mortifying. To top it off, Starscream would clarify, the matter was exacerbated by Thundercracker’s injury and temporary delegation to Cybertron, which at the time was led by the Decepticon scientist Shockwave. The cyclops, Starscream explained, was an unpleasant mech with an absent personality centre, but he did at least have his fair share of interesting science projects, ranging from antimatter stabilisation rays, to cellular fusion, and refinements of space bridge engineering.

“There were certainly _many_ shortcomings within the Decepticon Army,” he concluded, eventually, his initial hesitance melting away into an unmistakeable pride. “But if there is one thing to be commended about it, it is the fact that our scientific research was the pinnacle of Cybertronian innovation.”

‘ _Our’ scientific research_ , thought Skyfire, absent-mindedly thumbing the crimson insignias branded over the Seeker’s wings. He could feel it there, beneath the barely detectable thickness, the outlines of a second badge underneath the first. He thought about Starscream with a very different pair of insignias, laughing and joking among his own kind.

A sudden courage overcame him.

“Do you miss them?”

Starscream laughed, an ambiguous sound that was both dry and ironic. “That,” he answered, soft and cryptic, “would be treason.”

But it wasn’t a ‘no’, and from the way Starscream’s blue gaze fixed itself upon the ceiling, to the soft tightening of his fingers around Skyfire’s, the shuttle knew he already had the answer.

He took in a cycle of air.

“I don’t care, you know,” he said finally, with a little difficulty. Starscream’s hand was still resting in his, solid and warm and _real_. “Whatever you did, and whatever you think of them… I know I might not seem like I understand, but I know the war is more complex than the Autobots make it out to be, and I know that… it wasn’t easy to give it all up.” He shook his helm. “I don’t blame you for making the choices that you did after what happened to me, and whatever they meant to you, I don’t –”

“They mean nothing,” interrupted Starscream with a sudden, sharp finality. He had lowered his helm now, his voice clouded with bitterness. “Because the Decepticons would never have given me something like this. At some point, war had become all that mattered to them, and they had lost sight of everything we were fighting for.”

“But they weren’t always like this,” murmured Skyfire. “Right?”

Starscream looked away. “Once upon a time,” he muttered, voice trembling minutely, “if I had found your life signal sooner, Megatron would have listened to me.”

To that, Skyfire said nothing, could say nothing. He knew it was not his place to comment. Instead he turned and carefully, gently, pulled Starscream into his embrace. The Seeker stiffened at first, wings twitching at the initial uninvited contact, but then finally, the stoic façade slipped, and he reached up to clutch at the shuttle’s shoulders, trembling minutely in anger and mourning for a loss that was beyond Skyfire’s understanding.

For the first time in a long time, Skyfire felt just how helpless and fragile his partner was in his arms. For all the sharpness of his words and the fierceness of his temper, the lightness of the Seeker’s frame was both brave and vulnerable under the weight of a thousand vorns of loneliness.

And they held each other, quietly in the night, as though making up for all the lost times before.

Finally, Starscream released his arms.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said lowly, not quite meeting Skyfire’s optics. “I’ve left that all behind. This is…” he paused, considering. “A new opportunity. It’s what we planned from the start, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” murmured Skyfire. “It will be OK.”

And cautiously, he leaned forward to press a soft, gentle kiss upon the top of the dark helm, one which, after another moment’s uncertainty, Starscream returned. The moment was brief and tentative, as though it were their first. Perhaps it should be, thought Skyfire, hopefully. A fresh start, after everything they had been through. He held Starscream a little tighter, and felt sure that he would never let go.

Eventually though, Starscream reset his vocaliser, squirming a little uncomfortably in the shuttle’s arms. “Well, that’s one cycle down,” he remarked, his clear optics reflecting Skyfire’s own. “Are you feeling any more tired?”

“Not really,” Skyfire admitted, but found that he somehow minded it a little less. Maybe fixing their recharge schedule wasn’t so important after all. “It was nice to just talk though. I liked listening to your stories.”

“Mmh,” hummed Starscream, “well, sorry to disappoint. But I’ve just remembered another trick I’ve used for recharge, and it’s even more boring and effective than your counting idea.”

“Oh?” Skyfire blinked, and saw the Seeker had already produced a device from his subspace – a small, portable projector which channelled a floating, holo-matter image above. “What’s that?”

“A private projector,” explained Starscream, flicking through the device’s settings. “It’s completely encrypted, so it can still be used regardless of any master system’s programming. It treats it like a device outside of the centre and won’t disrupt its functions.” He tilted his helm. “You probably don’t know this model. We didn’t used to have that kind of thing in the Academy.”

“Oh,” said Skyfire, frowning in contemplation. “I could have really done with technology like that for my graduation exams.”

“Hah!” Starscream smirked, looking somehow proud. “You are a rule-breaker after all.”

Then he set the projector up on the berth, and scooted down into the blankets, gesturing at Skyfire to do the same. 

The shuttle frowned, but before he could even ask a face began to form on the image. Crimson optics swirled, silver colours condensing into a solid, protective helm, and before he could even utter the designation that flashed across his processor, the face did it for him.

“ _Decepticons_!” It bellowed, its deep voice reverberating in the tiny chamber. “ _This is your leader, **Megatron**_!”

“Starscream!” Startled, Skyfire almost knocked the projector straight off the berth. “What the –! Why do you have –? What’s _he_ doing on the –?”

“Relax,” said Starscream, waving a servo as though the answers were obvious. “It’s just a recording of one of his speeches. This was at a rally on the colony of Saphus, boosting morale or whatnot after a native mutiny. I think Soundwave wrote it, which is probably why it’s so dull. Absolute drivel, just like the speeches the old Senatorial politicians used to spout. I could fall into recharge almost every time I watch it.”

“You…” Skyfire blinked, too many questions struggling at once. “You still record all his speeches?”

“Slag, no. This was at least two thousand vorns ago. Back when I still… admired him, I suppose.” The admission was grudging, and suddenly, the Seeker’s wings lifted warily. “It’s not out of _loyalty_ ,” he clarified hastily, “it’s just a… reminder of his incompetence. He’s a fool, you know, that’s why I left. And his stupid antics –”

“– help you recharge,” interjected Skyfire smoothly, running a hand over the tips of Starscream’s wings.

“… Yes,” said Starscream, collecting himself. “Exactly.”

On the projector, Megatron had already begun to rant, and though it was his first time hearing his speeches, there was indeed something typical and political about his words. He decried the Autobot ideology and their cruelty, and cast insults on the foolish savagery of the alien race they dominated. Then his tone twisted to praise the glory of the Decepticon empire, hailing to their common roots from the very bottom of society, from grounders to fliers, citizens to fighters. The Decepticons, he proclaimed with irresistible charisma, was to fight for them _all_ , secure a future for them _all_ , and the resources of Saphus, he declared, shaking his fist, was key to their future. 

By far it was the _least_ relaxing video Skyfire could imagine watching before recharge, and though he instinctively resisted the violent glower of Megatron’s gestures and the harsh brutality of his words, he found himself watching, regardless, with fascinated optics barely moving from the screen. Above Megatron towered the large, leering face of the Decepticon insignia on three, great banners, while beneath the platform a roiling, cheering mass of Decepticons writhed and screamed adoringly at his every word. The Autobots didn’t allow this kind of footage within their base, and doubtless they would both be in severe trouble for holding it if they were to be discovered. Still Skyfire found himself watching, and wondering, and imagining, quite idly, whether he could imagine Starscream among its masses. 

Was this Starscream’s own, obscure way of telling him something about himself? He looked down towards his partner for an answer, but was surprised to find that the Seeker had indeed fallen deep into recharge, completely unperturbed by the frenzy and noise of the screen before him. 

Perhaps the charm of Megatron had truly worn off, or perhaps it was easier still for him to rest in the cacophony of shouts like a battlefield than the silence of his partner. Or maybe it really was just that boring. He suspected there was still more Starscream hadn’t yet told him. 

But it was alright. Skyfire could wait.

 _“Whatever our sins_ ,” Megatron’s gravelly voice growled at that moment, bringing the shuttle’s attention back on to the projector, “ _whatever our pasts, we have survived against all odds. Though life continues to challenge us with its many foes and obstacles, we will continue to fight as we have done and always will do, our destiny no one’s to decide but our own!”_ The crimson optics flashed then, and Megatron seemed to turn as though he could stare straight into Skyfire’s own spark. “ _We are strong. We are determined. And when I look at you all,”_ here, he paused, dark voice purring, _“I have every faith that we will be triumphant._ ” 

Would he have joined the Decepticons, had he been in Starscream’s place? Would he, too, have looked into those powerful crimson optics and followed along in its tyrannical footsteps? Skyfire wasn’t sure, but there was no point in speculation either.

What mattered was that Starscream chose him. Their journey had been long, and there was still much more to come. But so far, they’d made it. Together. Against all odds.

Megatron had got one thing right at least.

Shuttering his optics, Skyfire curled around Starscream’s softly wound form, recharge seeping into his frame. Tomorrow, there would be a whole new planet to explore. Tomorrow, they would fly together again.

Tomorrow, Starscream would be free from the war.

Unnoticed, the projector sputtered on the last dregs of its power, its images flickering and dimming as the night crept upon it. Meanwhile Megatron still ranted, his crazed following still roaring, but the images only grew dimmer, and the angry voice grew quieter. Then at last, the room fell back into darkness, and Megatron spoke no more. 


End file.
